February 24, 2012

Wind, a lot of really noisy wind in the trees, does not make for peaceful sleeping.  At times it sounded like an ocean crashing overheard, other times with all the neighborhood chimes, it sounded like a wild symphony of demons and demi-gods, all fury and noise and deep bell tones tolling out over all the yards. It is still windy, though now there are patches of sun and white clouds racing to cover them, sometimes they miss and the sun shines through for a few minutes.

Today I took my daughter shopping for her birthday presents, black flat shoes, and a big comforter for her bed.  She is picky about her blankets, they have to be soft and really big and really snuggly!  And we found the cutest shoes with classy bows to one side.  They are just adorable!  Good thing birthdays only come once a year, otherwise I might discover I rather like shopping more than I think I do and that would be not a good thing. 

More and more trees are beginning to bloom, leaf out, and otherwise announce spring!  The ash trees have joined the oaks, and the blooming fruit trees are covered with white or pink or fuscia flowers lining every branch and twig.  I wait every year for the couple of white flowering trees near the credit union to bloom, they are so spectacular in their showy splendor!

A poem for how trees make me feel . . . for their beauty and endurance and each spring's renewal that allows me to share such gladness.

When I Am Among the Trees

When I am among the trees,
especially the willows and the honey locust,
equally the beech, the oaks and the pines,
they give off such hints of gladness,
I would almost say that they save me, and daily.

I am so distant from the hope of myself,
in which I have goodness, and discernment,
and never hurry through the world
but walk slowly, and bow often.

Around me the trees stir in their leaves
and call out, "Stay awhile."
The light flows from their branches.

And they call again, "It's simple," they say,
"and you too have come
into the world to do this, to go easy, to be filled
with light, and to shine."

Mary Oliver

It doesn't matter the kind of tree, my maple makes me glad to see its red helicopters, the oaks in their shining green, the ashes with their perfect shape, the little fruit trees in their glory, and later the bald cypress will again clothe itself in its tiny needles of green.  Even in winter the crepe myrtles are lovely because of their smooth golden wood, they don't even need leaves except to keep living, coins of green spent in the sunshine of summer.

So today, after all the errands and school this morning, I am taking the trees up on their call . . . I am sitting here, easy and filled with light.  I could swear my skin might begin its own greening, or perhaps shine with white flowers, or I could just sit here and drink in the sounds of the wind, the sunshine coming and going, and the cane in its limber dance.  Some days just have their own heart, their own joys, and this day has been a pleasure!